Tears solve nothing

I cry as if it will mend my wounds.
I cry as if it will heal your heart.
I cry as if it will fix the world.
And weep as if it will weaken your words.
But our sun has been asleep
For how long, who really knows.
One doesn't notice these things until it's too late
Especially through the haze endless tears create
Oh, once that sun illuminated the way to our resting ground,
the spot we aimed to embrace forever.
But with no guiding light
I can only feel a different set of tears
They're enticing a trend of ghoulish fiends
They're a feast for these monstrous things
And they come to bequest this fallacy of love
Yeah,
Love was nothing more than a hopeful notion anyhow
It was our storybook written, day by day,
Page by page
No one could peek ahead and see
That the ending was a gruesome severance
Both protagonists once of high reverence
Now reduced to a coroner's bin fillings
Now words,
Summarized on papers,
Hole punched and bound
Filed and tucked away
Neatly, more or less,
Depending on the deputy
Regardless to our unrest.
What will instigate an oppressive haunting
because I feel one commencing
With no more tears to solve nothing
I need to perpetuate this useless cycle
And allow my nothingness to do just that

Fuck you, humanity, I hate you

Humanity, I hate you. I hate your disgusting disregard for the bountiful endowments evolution has empowered you with. You've proven to be a wasteful, disrespectful, ungrateful, abhorrent species, not worthy of anything this universe has given you. Not worthy of the anonymity, not worthy of the uniqueness, not worthy of the fucking round rock you stomp around on with your arrogance and exploitation and erroneous destruction. You pride yourselves in discovering the minutiae yet can’t even discover the grandiose semblance of connectivity amongst yourselves. You can weave intricacies between galaxies and molecules, you can create mathematics and physics to supplement your insignificance, no different from the religious zealot, yet you cannot even discard your indifference to the suffering both caused and felt by YOU, always you. You create truth, in lieu of listening to the truths that have already been created, and this conceit is destructive. Most destructive to those who can see the destruction happening and yet can do nothing to thwart it.

I am speaking from a place that is now subhuman, because of you. I've blamed myself for too long and it’s a god damn cosmic joke I've been naïve to; perhaps willingly, but no more.

Because? Because you've worn me down. You've drained me, then trained me to know nothing but disdain. Any creature that is filled with contempt for its own kind cannot be considered itself any longer. Any person that is no longer living, only surviving, has become nothing more than a dangerous beast. And I am only human enough these days to acknowledge this fact. It helps nothing. To call myself an animal would be a compliment. A beast abreast is nothing more than a menace. My chosen environment augments my instability; my danger is amplified in this city. I feel a discord that is terrifying, I’m sure, if only I could feel anything except rancor.

Yes, I hate YOU. I hate you, slow walkers. I hate you, pretty face. I hate you, vagabond. And I fucking hate the rest of you, you who pass out flyers and you who ask for signatures and you who dig in the trash and you half-smilers and you businessmen and you who cough outrageously and you who let your gaze linger too long on my hate-filled face. I hate every creed and gender and race and age with such an unwavering equality that no one is spared from my revulsion, not even you, so please don’t allow yourself to feel fucking special or singular.

Fuck you for being white, fuck you for being black, fuck you for being male or female, fuck you for being so easily stereotypical. Living a life you don’t even like – why do you do it? Because you’re selfish, and insatiable. Hope is a farce and even staring that truth in the face, you still cling to this life. Because you’re selfish. And insatiable.

I want to spit in each of your faces. I want to slap each smug face with such force that your pompous energy is launched into the atmosphere, allowing me to bathe in its antagonism. I want to hold my space on the sidewalk and run you off it, to let the door slam in your face for once instead of allowing you through it first, because I’m too tired to hold my own head up let alone hold a foreign door open for a stranger. This doorway is MY entrance and YOUR exit; this sidewalk is MY space to occupy and own and rule with tyranny. I will cling to this selfishness from now on because you've shown me it’s the only way to live. And I fucking hate you for robbing me of my kindness.

I hate you, street vendor, you with your culturally appropriate clothes and hair and job and aura – your desperate grasp on uniqueness is palpable and ordinary and confines you to a crowd so much further from counterculture than when you began that I can feel nothing but thorough enjoyment over your blatant failure. I hate your black punk rock themed BBQ stand and your meticulously gelled mohawk aimed to match it. Fuck your customers buying into your cheap trickery to sell a piece of dead meat in a perceivably cool fashion. I loathe your stupid subscription to a lifestyle that is so benign and contrived I could vomit. Fuck your stupid rolled jeans, like you rolled out of a magazine. Your fucking tatted arms and tatted food truck, aren't you just fucking divine?

I want to knock down your spatially unaware children. Don’t you teach them that other people exist? Of course not, you only teach them to be ignorant and selfish because we really only learn from example, and you are the prime example of ignorant, egocentric behavior.  I’d love nothing more than to tell them to quit fucking smiling, that it won’t last, and that it makes the rest of us subliminally feel like shit because all we can muster is furrowed brows and thin lipped frowns. We know better. And you can shove your innocence-protecting up your fucking ass, because you are ruining their innocence every fucking day, every fucking interaction, and I will not absorb the guilt you refuse to feel when you choose ignorance. Will you never understand that the awfully inescapable human condition is contagious?

I want to smash the 16^th Street pianos because you do not play for the beauty of music, you play for the attention it brings you. You care nothing of the meaning contained within those notes, only that you hit the right ones to catch the admiring eye of a passerby. You experience no gratitude towards the very existence of an unexplainable phenomenon that has brought nations to their knowing and cultures to their cultivation. I'd chop your fucking fingers off if it meant sparing the rest of us your choppy version of a masterpiece, simply because you do not give a single fucking care towards its brilliance. And I hate whoever placed those pianos there. I hate them for giving you the opportunity to embarrass the creators of the most sacred souvenir given to one of our few fallible senses. I hate that you have the opportunity to embarrass what is arguably the only thing humanity has done right. Created by us and ruined by us, it’s a treacherous pattern to which we've enslaved ourselves.

Oh how I want to smash in the faces of you pitiful handicapped fucks. You, you fucking scourge, you fucking useless, insatiable blood suckers, bound to wheelchairs that fucking mock me, mock me to no end. Your pathetic existence just begs for my mercy and pity and I have none of that to give. I care not to explain how your own kind has bled me dry of it. And since you have nothing to give either, you only take and take and take and take, I feel a contempt towards you that may be the most fiery form of hatred. I hate you because your self-obsessed, subconscious destitution is manifested in your lameness and swaddled in metal instead of hidden like the rest of humanity’s disgusting, wretched, harrowing nature. You expose all of humanity with your deplorable presence.

Fuck you for driving a car. Fuck you for giving your kids the same haircut. Fuck you for cowering under an umbrella in a lightning storm. Fuck you for delaying life in order to post every fucking moment to Instagram or Facebook. Just FUCK YOU in every capacity possible.

Punch your numbers into your godawful machine, take my money in return for something I require to live, and then I fucking dare you recite those empty words as if you truly wish me to have a good day. You only know “good” as the opposite of bad and that is not enough. That is not a fucking way to define goodness. You can’t define something by showcasing its antithesis.

God DAMN I hate you all. I hate your belonging and I hate your need to belong and I hate your clinging and the fact that your answer to those poignant demands is public comradery, knowing damn well that beneath your shiny, shallow surface you are just a self-serving piece of shit that is unworthy of any happiness, faux or otherwise. 

This anger has been learned. This anger has been learned, and so I feel no remorse in hating you, humanity. Your glimmers of good no longer have any fucking place in my ever-forming opinion – you could have never created evil, but you did, and that is most evil of all. Then to propagate it…No, I cannot forgive you.

If I've incited hatred in you, then I've paid it forward, as was done to me. It’s now important to know, to admit, that the most passionate hatred I experience is towards my own self. I hate myself for allowing myself to feel this way, for allowing you to disempower me, for allowing you to disarm me from my loving defenses, to allow myself the pomposity to identify myself as a “self” from my inception. I hate my longing for a connection to you, for acceptance, I hate myself for needing you to define what is me.  I look in the mirror and see a person filled with nothing but disgust and I can in turn feel nothing but disgust towards my person. Towards my former person, as I am now just a shell carrying the incurable virus known as hatred; simply an empty vessel that now that only survives to fuel a perpetual hatred towards its own self and the beings that resemble my own former self. I fucking hate me, and it’s because I fucking hate you.